growing real.

"The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us." ~C.S. Lewis


it's a funny thing, this concept of growth.


honestly, it's not what i expected it would be, or what it would feel like. 

it's so much scarier than i ever imagined.

if you've been following me at this blog for any length of time, you will have noticed that i have made a lot of changes in my writing style. the way i express myself has truly molded into truth as time has passed. 

in the beginning, i was never real. i never shared my 

pain

struggles

heartache

i never talked about the hard things.

i wrote what i was sure people wanted to hear. 

what was the popular way to feel? what was the right way to write? what was okay to share? where was the imaginary line in the sand that i dared not cross?

i have only recently begun to let go of my own intense perfectionism. 

this includes writing with much more abandon, less drafting and more living. and honestly, it means letting go of capitalization sometimes and just letting things flow. 

i'm still learning how to let go, how to let the Gardener prune me into His most beautiful creation. growth is a funny thing. 

sometimes, it really hurts. and oh, it's terrifying. 

i have the occasional minor moments of panic after posting something that isn't a ray of sunshine or a post regarding the beauty of daisy petals. 

pray for me.

because more than anything, i want to be changed. 

i want to be clay on His wheel.

i want to become a new thing. 

a fresh thing. a clean thing.

a real thing.

(first post at Eat, Pray, Write this morning. giveaway ends in five days.)

Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. ~Isaiah 43:19

Linking up with Jen and this beautiful weekly sisterhood.
Soli Deo Gloria

Cadeau (Gift) {33-40}

If you give what can be taken, you are not really giving.  Take what you are given, not what you want to be given.  Give what cannot be taken.  ~Idries Shah

It hardly seems possible that another week has come and gone.

I wonder if time is playing tricks on me...speeding up and slowing down however it wishes, if only to lure me into a false sense of security before pouncing upon me in some strange and unnoticed way.

Each week, as I take stock of the occurrences which now fill the path behind me, I am caught up in the awe and wonder that is my life...and that is my God.

My life is full of beauty. For all the heartache, struggles, and pain that I with which I war daily...there is so much light kissing the edges of the shadows, and making them seem so much less frightening.

• 33. Waiting by the mailbox patiently all week long, only to open the small copper door and finally find the most beautifully penned note for which I have been tirelessly waiting...as I have said, it is the small things.
• 34. An evening of fun with people whom I care deeply about...putting aside myself for just a few hours, donning a hand-stitched cape and dramatically swirled eye makeup, and joining the leagues of justice for a more-than-delightful Heroes and Villains murder mystery party. 
• 35. 11:11 and eyelash wishes. Perhaps a bit of foolishness...more than a gentle reminder to think and pray for you.
• 36. Raspberry lemon ice and oreo-M&M shakes with my daddy after a particularly frustrating rehearsal. Tucked in a blue and white booth, laughing over nothing and mutually missing my mother and sister...such comfort only my daddy can provide. 
• 37. Captain America, too much popcorn and Diet Pepsi, with a bag of M&Ms to share between us...I will never to get too old to share 3D glasses and date night with my daddy. 
• 38. Waking up to Owl City ringtones and the most perfect sunrise...even though I am still confused why my alarm was set to 5:30am. Even still, the glory of the heavens and the paint from the hands of my King made it all worth it in the end. 
• 39. The realization that I can't carry everything by myself...that I have a God who's big enough to carry me and everything else. And on mornings this like...I am clinging to this truth like I'm drowning. For me, and for those I love. 
• 40. Letting God crack the door to the poetic corners of my heart this week..feeling Him cut away at my silent, struggling voice. I am Moses...I cannot speak well. He is making me Deborah. 

I am trying to gaze at the bigger picture. I am letting go of my own mentality of "this is now, and this is all it will ever be."

My life is watercoloured clouds. 

First glance, it is simple, basic, and easily explained.

But now

I am tones of pink and gold and blue and silvery green.

These are my gifts...

...these watercolour clouds. 

See, I am doing a new thing. Now it is springing up; can you not perceive it?I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." ~Isaiah 43:19

Stitch

Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by.  Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.  ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

I am not a seamstress.

Not by any stretch of the imagination.

People often ask me why I don't have a shop on Etsy. While I do have an Etsy account, I tell them that I could never have a shop because my gifts are not something you can sell.

I cannot bottle my voice, sell my poetry as a garment, or send some moment in theater baked into a lump of divine chocolate goodness.

All of that to say, I cannot sew.

I was not one of those homeschooled girls who threw herself into the world of fiber, needles, and intricate stitching. It just never interested me all that much, despite how hard my grandmother tried to lure me into the magical land of her sewing room.

I wanted to like sewing...it fascinated me, but i never found myself called into this world like so many others.

But yesterday, all that changed.

I went to the store and made a few small purchases: five yards of red and white satin, needles, pins, two spools of thread, and a small spool of black ribbon.

I sat down on the floor, took a deep breath, and proceeded to spend the next eighteen hours in the world of the seamstress.

And finally, from the ashes of well-poked fingers and sore hands,

...from staying up until 2am to the welcome accompaniment of the fourth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer...

...a beautiful two-sided superhero cape was born.

I could not be more proud of my pattern-less creation...for all of its lopsided and crooked stitching, random moments of gathered lumps, and maybe one or two blood drops from my own battle wounds.

And as I stared at this creation...once only a pile of fabric and miscellaneous materials, now something wonderful and beautiful...I heard the whisper of my King.

See. I am making all things new. 

See, I am making you new. 

You are My creation. 

You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are Mine.

And oh, how I love you. 

I am His creation. He poured labour into me. He poured all of Himself into me...yes, even His blood. 

And I am His. 

And He gazes on me with pride. 

I see crooked stitches.

He makes my way straight.

Stitch by stitch.

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." ~Isaiah 43:19